


Boys of Summer

by dramady, edonyx



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, lambliff
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-07
Updated: 2010-07-07
Packaged: 2017-10-10 10:38:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/98826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dramady/pseuds/dramady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/edonyx/pseuds/edonyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> First love can often be the truest.</p><p><b>Authors' Notes:</b> Find our OF <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Madeleine+Delaney&x=0&y=0">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Boys of Summer

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred, or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.

In between working on his own shitty lyrics for his own shitty band, Tommy wastes class time by writing out song lyrics, notes haphazardly tucked between verses and choruses. He watches Adam out of the corner of his eye, dropping his pencil, even, so he can duck down and look back. He already knows he's a year older than Adam; he's taking a Grade 11 credit so he can actually graduate this summer. It's just that he kind of sucks at History - it's boring, alright? - and skipped over the whole History/Geography mandatory bullshit.

But it's where he'd met Adam. Well, when he actually introduced himself. For now, while the teacher talks, Tommy glances over his shoulder at Adam, his head bowed as he reads what he's writing. _He's_ taking notes. Tommy's thinking about Slipknot:

_S(he) seemed dressed in all of me, stretched across my shame.  
All the torment and the pain  
Leaked through and covered me  
I'd do anything to have her (him) to myself  
Just to have her(him) for myself  
Now I don't know what to do, I don't know what to do when s(he) makes me sad_...

High School. Ugh. That about sums it up. One word: concise. Ugh, meaning dreary misery, judgment, cliques, and a lack of any kind of sex life at all. Period. Adam doesn't even know what a sex life would _be_ like. Having someone to hold hands with? To touch? To share a smile with even. Just those are enough to make him lose his train of thought.

But no, he's fat and tall to boot, so he's big and he's got braces and boring red-blond hair. The only time people notice him is when he's singing and then, even, he's sure people are thinking, _wow, he's good. Too bad he's so fat._ Or something like that.

And a secret: he's not really taking notes. He's more scrawling stuff that he thinks about. Parts he'd love to play, things he'd like to do. Sure, he logs dates: those are what will be on the test, but other than that, his mind wanders. Holding hands would be amazing. He even imagines what one would feel like, their fingers twined. Ugh. With a sigh, he looks up toward the front and as he looks down again, he catches - what was his name? Tom ... no, Tommy ... looking back at him. That's weird. Adam gives a small, tentative smile.

Tommy answers with a little smile of his own, and then he's turning back around. The combination of his half-shaved head and a hoodie lets him hide a headphone between hair and fabric, and he tunes the teacher out entirely. His mind is on music and Adam, and Adam's _voice_ \- yes, Tommy's heard Adam sing - and how he might be able to convince his buddy Dave that they _need_ a singer. Because Dave can't sing worth shit, but Tommy doesn't have the balls to tell him. Thus, Adam.

Over lunch, Tommy sits in the back of the auditorium with Dave, eating french fries and talking about music. "I think if we actually wanna play stuff, you shouldn't sing," Tommy starts, jabbing a fry into a puddle of ketchup. "Only because it's distracting or whatever, and-" He's trying to be subtle, but, well. Tommy sucks at subtle. He's not sure he even knows what subtle means.

"So you're saying I suck." Dave kicks Tommy and kicks the wood seating in front of them, laughing out a curse. "Who've you got in mind? I fuckin' know that face, Tommy."

"He's a guy in one of my classes. His name's Adam Lambert, and, like-"

"The kid with the red hair?" Dave snorts. "Your taste sucks, for the record. You like Depeche Mode."

"_Trust_ me," Tommy tries. "Let's go out for a smoke, huh?"

"Fine," Dave sighs, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, holding his box of fries in one hand. "And you can tell me why you think a theater nerd would fuckin' rock."

~*~

"Hey," Tommy greets Adam, before class starts. "Just wondering if you wanted to hang out after school or something."

Adam doesn't answer right away because he's too busy staring. Tommy's asking him to hang out? Tommy. Asking him to hang out. Adam is pretty much never asked to hang out, right? Just ... not. "Um."

"I don't know," Tommy says, and it comes out defensive. "I was just thinking we could hang out. Talk about... I don't know, music or whatever. Just hang out on the back field and-" And Tommy realizes, too late of course, that his words are making things even more awkward. The bell saves him by ringing and Tommy flicks Adam a smile. "Just meet me at the art room doors, okay?"

What just happened?! Adam blinks as Tommy walks to his desk and only when the other boy's sitting does he finally find his voice. "Yeah, okay," he calls. What in the world is going on?! History. He has to concentrate on history. Battle of 1812. Or something.

The bell rang, that's what happened, and it kept Tommy from totally making himself look like a jackass. After school, he's waiting at the art room doors, hands jammed deep in his pockets, his discman tucked in the pocket of his hoodie. When he sees Adam coming down the hall, Tommy lifts his chin in greeting. "Ready?" The music gets paused - it's Marilyn Manson's Antichrist Superstar, now - and Tommy offers Adam a smile.

"Um, okay, first? If you're going to like take me somewhere to have a bunch of people beat me up? I'm kind of not into that," Adam says, clinging to the strap of his bag. Even though he towers over Tommy, he knows Tommy travels in different circles: decidedly different groups. "So if you can give me the head's up, that would be great."

"Aw, fuck off." Tommy laughs, though, and pushes through the doors to the bit of concrete that leads around the back of the school and to the field beyond. "You don't even say anything and it makes me feel like I'm asking you out on a date, which I'm _not_, by the way, and then you accuse me of getting people together to beat you up? I don't even _know_ you, really. I just know that you're a singer. Right?" The sun hits Tommy's hair, the light stealing what little colour's there that he hasn't bleached out already. "What do you listen to?"

"Um." This is all still so strange. Tommy hit the nail right on the head; they're hanging out, Adam supposes, and they don't even know each other. Weird, right? "I'm kind into a lot of stuff, I guess. Love stuff from the 70s, though. Bowie and Queen and ... that kind of thing, I guess .... " Which, he supposes, sounds less gay than saying Duran Duran. But only just barely.

"What do you think of Zep?" Tommy nods to the hill that leads up to the rec center. It's shady and green and a little bit private; he can smoke here and know that his mom's not about to drive by coming home from work, and catch him. "You smoke? You want one?" Tommy drops his backpack and sprawls out on the the grass, arms above his head. "Queen's fuckin' great. Bowie's awesome. You heard what he did with Trent Reznor?" The sun in his eyes keeps him from really looking at Adam, and maybe that's not a bad thing. Maybe it keeps him from staring.

"Um, no ... and no." Smoking? Bad for the voice and if that's all he's got, he's not about to fuck that up. Adam sits more slowly, bag leaned against his side. It's hot, but not ungodly hot. "Not really a Nine Inch Nails fan. But Led Zeppelin's awesome. They make music like it should be, you know? All ... " He wrinkles his nose up as he tries to think of another word for "sexual," which would be weird to say around a guy he barely knows. "All intrinsic, I guess."

"It's fucking music," Tommy offers, without knowing what Adam was thinking about. "A lot of the stuff from the 70's is like that. Even stuff like Bowie, y'know?" It takes a second, but he gets his cigarettes out of his pocket and pokes one between his lips, lighting up and puffing smoke out without really inhaling. "I got a band. And we need a singer. And I know you sing. So." Tommy looks up at the sky, one shoulder going up-down in a non-commital shrug. "If you wanna come over and, like, jam sometime..."

Okay, so that was like the _last_ thing Adam expected Tommy to say. Well, one of the last things. Woah. "Um." Fucking music. "... what kind of music does your band play?"

"It's just me and my buddy Dave and we jam covers. I've got a couple of songs, but whatever, we don't play them 'cause they're not done." Tommy glances at Adam, at the way the sun makes his hair seem fiery, and looks away. Yeah, he knows that Adam can sing; he can sing like a _motherfucker_, all Robert Plant or maybe even Judas Priest or Iron Maiden if he put his mind to it, but there's something else. Something about _how_ Adam sings that makes Tommy feel weird and nervous in his middle. "I think it'd be cool. If you want to."

Well, after Broadway, singing in a band was kind of Adam's other dream. But somehow he imagined it differently than with two guys in their garage. But one had to start somewhere, right? He looks over at Tommy and still has no idea where all this came from, but since when did life make sense? "Um, okay. We can try, right?"

Adam's answer makes Tommy roll onto his stomach and dig into his backpack for a piece of paper and a pen. "Here, I'm gonna give you my phone number and address. Come over on Saturday at like, two. We'll get a pizza or someshit for dinner. My parents aren't gonna be there, so." There's that shrug again, and when Tommy meets Adam's eyes, it's to realize how _blue_ they are. He'd never noticed before, and _now_ he's staring.

Maybe Tommy's high. Hey, it could happen, right? Who is Adam to judge. He holds out his hand to take the paper with a crooked, close-mouthed smile (the better to hide the braces) and nods. "Yeah, okay. I have rehearsal at six, though, so I'll have to leave before then."

"Oh." For some reason, that news disappoints Tommy. "What rehearsal do you have? Like, choir or theater or something?" His eyes dart down to the uneven line of Adam's smile and back to his eyes before Tommy looks away entirely to roll onto his back again. The sky's a different blue than Adam's eyes, but at least the sky doesn't make him feel all weird in his guts. "So what else do you do?"

"Sing and act. That's pretty much it," Adam said with a shrug, looking away from Tommy to pull grass, letting it fall on his leg. "The community theatre's doing Godspell, so ... that's what rehearsal's for. It's a great show."

"I have this sort of not-there memory of my mom having a Godspell movie or something. Isn't the main character Ronald McDonald, or some guy who looks like him?" The breeze catches the runner of smoke from Tommy's cigarette and tugs it away from both of them while Tommy thinks about what else to say. "Sing something for me, right now. Like, from the show you're doing."

"What, right here?" Adam looked around at the field, the school in the distance. "Why? Is this an audition?" And he grinned, too, still closed-mouthed. "I don't know about the movie. My dad has the original Broadway soundtrack on vinyl, believe it or not. He was a DJ in college. But the main character is, um, Jesus, actually. Godspell? Anyway."

"I don't know anything about it," Tommy replies, sounding defensive for a moment. "I've seen you at practices and stuff 'cause I eat my lunch in the auditorium. It'd just be cool to hear you... Like, just me hearing you. And no one else." That Adam's dad was a DJ in college doesn't pass over Tommy's head; he thinks it's fucking cool, and makes his idea of Adam being the singer for his band even more realistic. "Are you Jesus?"

"They say I'm too young. I'm one of the other people. Named Adam. That's a Godspell thing? You use your own name. Anyway." Adam continued plucking grass out and letting it fall. "Um." For some reason, singing for someone he hardly knows like this makes him nervous. But he takes a deep breath, anyway, and sits up a little straight as he starts to sing.

"We plow the fields and scatter the good seed on the land..  
But it is fed and watered by God's almighty hand..  
He sends us snow in winter, the warmth to swell the grain...  
The breezes and the sunshine, and soft refreshing rain...

All good gifts around us  
Are sent from Heaven above  
Then thank the Lord, thank the Lord for all his love... "

Tommy doesn't watch Adam as he sings. Instead, he watches how the clouds pass overhead, letting Adam's voice fill the air. "Awesome," he answers, once the song's finished, and finally turns his head to look at Adam, who looks uncomfortable at best. "You ever get stage fright?"

"Sometimes?" Adam shrugs. "Not always. Singing here is more weird than being on stage." And he smiles a little bit. "I guess I should go? I'll um, come by your place on Saturday." And he starts to rise, wiping off his butt as he does. "... why me?" He asks, though, now that he's standing.

"'cause I don't know anyone that can sing worth half a ball. Dave sucks, I can't sing and play at the same time, at least not on key, and soemtimes it's just fuckin' awesome to jam out some covers and have a good time. But we need someone to sing. Who _can_ sing." Tommy stays where he is; he's comfortable. He looks up at Adam, though, who looks like a fuckin' _giant_ at this perspective. "Saturday. I'm getting pizza. Fuckin' be there."

"Fuckin' say fuckin' a few more times." And with a grin, Adam walks away. "No peppers on the pizza, please." Urgh, peppers. Well, he can sing, that's true.

And of course he shows up on Saturday, right on time, in jeans and a t-shirt and flipflops, feeling fat and uncomfortable. He hovers at the door of Tommy's garage, looking around inside. It really is a _garage_ band. Funny how literal it is. When Tommy looks up, he gives a small waggly-finger wave.

Adam becomes the recipient of one of Tommy's full-out grins, dimples and all, and he kicks the side of Dave's knee to get his attention. "Dude, this is Adam. Adam, this is Dave. Man, help yourself to the bong, and there's soda in the beer fridge." The garage is very obviously Tommy's place: there are a couple of little amps, the fridge, a little stereo up on the wall, and a few posters. His parents figured leaving the car in the driveway was a small price to pay for some peace and quiet inside the house.

"Hey," Dave greets, tipping his chin up, much as Tommy had in the hallway. A dude-greeting, for sure. "Tommy Joe says you can sing. Get comfortable and pick a song."

"I can." Adam looks back at Dave. If there's one thing he can do, one thing he feels confident about, well, there you go. "He says you can't." And he arches a brow. "What about Bowie? Anything off Spiders from Mars?" No pot and soda makes him burp, so.

"Fuck _you!_" Dave rounds on Tommy, giving him a shove. Tommy shoves back, and they go back and forth until they're laughing. "Do we know anything from Spiders From Mars?"

"Yeah, Suffragette City. Adam, you cool with that? Like, get comfortable or something." There's an old, tattered loveseat by the door that leads into the house that's seen a lot of bodies, for sitting and sleeping and doing exactly what they're doing now. Tommy's fingers pick out the beginning of the song, and he glances at Adam to let him know he can chime in anytime he wants.

Not his favorite Bowie song, but it will do. Adam gets the mic and taps on it to make sure it's working. Then he starts to sing. Well, not that the song requires singing, really. So he starts out quiet, easing his voice into it. By the second verse, he's standing in front of Tommy, offering to share the mic for every "hey man." It's kinda fun!

"Hey, man!" Tommy joins in, laughing, because Dave looks like someone shoved a boot up his ass. There's a squeal of feedback when Tommy turns the wrong way, and then the song's over with the shout from Dave that Tommy _fails_ and that he's going to die of ebola sometime soon for fucking up Bowie. The amps are clicked off for the time being, and Tommy switches over to a battered old acoustic that he can sit on the loveseat with and play random chords that don't sound much like anything.

Dave fires up the bong and holds it out to Adam, then Tommy, who takes a giant haul only to cough out acrid, skunky smoke.

That was it? Adam watched them both. One song and then break to get high? Oookay. Adam backs up to the doorway; no need to go to rehearsal smelling like weed. Did he do good? The other boys are pretty hard to read. And Adam, frankly, isn't sure this was such a good idea.

"Sit down," Tommy smiles, and the bong goes back onto the fridge. Just a haul each, and they're good to go again. Just for something a little more chill, something that sounds better in acoustic, and look at that, it's Space Oddity. Tommy grins at Adam again, chin up, inviting him closer so he can sing the song. There's no need for Adam to look like Tommy and Dave are about to stomp a mudhole in him or anything; they're just playing music for fun and getting a new voice in on it.

Now, that's a good song. That's a song that lets Adam sing. And since Tommy's acoustic, Adam doesn't need the crappy mic and he wanders closer a step at a time.

The song is actually super-sad, when you think about it. Hopeless and lost and alone. It was a song that Adam can actually really relate to. It shows, then, in the tenor of his voice.

It's also a song that Tommy knows well enough that he only has to glance down at his fingers every thirty seconds or so instead of every five, which lets him watch Adam as well as listen to him. There's something eloquent about the way he sings, something that's on his face as much as it is in his voice, and to see it as clearly as anything else makes Tommy's stomach clench. He suddenly wants Dave to leave, so he can be alone with Adam, so it can be just the two of them playing. Tommy plays the song well past completion, just letting the notes turn into something else: No Excuses by Alice In Chains. Whether Adam knows the song or not doesn't matter; Tommy's curious if he'll pick out a vocal line or not.

No clue what the song is. Adam laughs a little. But when Tommy keeps playing and watching him like that, it starts to feel like a challenge. So Adam listens and he sits (carefully) on the edge of the worn coffee table, his hands on his knees and he starts to hum along, riffing off the chords that Tommy's playing.

"Fuck yeah," Tommy says, just as Dave claps his hands together and shouts, "Right _on!_" It's a musician's response to a real jam-out, making music even if nobody knows the tune, the words, but finding meaning nonetheless. Tommy nudges Adam's shin with his toes, grinning at him between glances down at his fingers. "_This_ is what I asked you over for, man. This is great."

Oh, but Adam isn't done, nope. He's just getting warmed up and he _never_ gets to sing like this in school. For the moment, he lets himself forget that he's fat and pimply and has braces and he sings like he imagines he _can_ sing. High and higher and opening his mouth to let sound come out like he's Robert Plant and he's _beautiful_.

Tommy looks at Dave and Dave looks at Tommy: their expressions match. Tommy's says _I told you so_ and Dave's reads _holy shit you were right_. The both of them figure out something that leads out of Alice In Chains and into Zepplin itself, and Tommy cocks an eyebrow at Adam before saying softly, "Fuckin' do it. Howl that shit out, it's awesome."

Shit. Adam has to stand up for this. And get the mic. He gestures for them to keep it slow. See? Music about sex. "You need coolin', baby I'm not foolin'. Gonna send you back for some schoolin'."

Dave takes the lead on this, since he's still got his guitar plugged in, and Tommy taps out a rhythm on the hollow body of his guitar. Adam may forget that he's fat and has braces and spots on his skin, and Tommy would have to agree. Like this, _into_ the music, Tommy realizes that Adam's sexy, and he stops keeping rhythm so he can smoke off his bong instead. A good plan to focus his concentration on the music instead of that knot in Tommy's own guts.

When the last note fades away, Adam comes back to himself with a jolt and he's glad he's looking away, because he feels like an absolute ass. That and his throat feels raw. Whoops. He clicks the mic back into the stand and he'll take the soda now, getting it from the little fridge.

Dave comes up behind Adam and punches his shoulder when he straightens. "Dude, man. If I didn't know better, I'd say I've got a boner. You need to jam with us all the time..."

"This is pretty much what we do," Tommy adds, his words rough and abbreviated with the smoke that's in his lungs. "We sit around and just play and hang out. When did you wanna get pizza? Dave's jetting in an hour or so 'cause he's a pussy and he's going to see Armageddon with his girlfriend. _Pussy!_"

Tommy ends up being the laughing recipient of a palm to his face, shoving him back on the loveseat.

Mustering a crooked half-grin Adam shrugs. He's got to get a semblance of a voice back for rehearsal tonight. "You guys never play for people?" He'd get bored fast, no lie, seeing as he doesn't get stoned and can think of a thousand things to do besides sitting in a garage.

"Well, we're not old enough to play in bars," Dave answers. "But when there are parties and stuff, we play. Mostly it's to sit around and listen to live music instead of something off of a CD, you know? Just playing real music." He takes the bong from Tommy and lights it up, using a toilet paper roll stuffed with laundry sheets to muffle the smell of smoke. "You do theater, right? It's the same idea. _Doing_ it instead of watching it."

"But people come see the shows." Obviously. Oh, well. Adam finishes off his soda. "I shouldn't sing anymore, so I'll just ... go? I guess you guys can let me know if you want me to sing with you again. It was nice meeting you," he tells Dave and he rises again. "Thanks."

"Come back after!" Tommy invites, putting his acoustic down so he can stand up. "Dave's gonna be getting laid, and I'm gonna be here, proabably. _Then_ we can get pizza or whatever." The look on Adam's face makes Tommy's words falter for a moment, and between his best friend and Adam, he feels awkward, suddenly. "Fuck yeah, we want you to sing with us again. Maybe you can see if your theater friends would know where we could play?"

"I'll ask, sure." Adam's smile turns quizzical as he looks back at Tommy. It still makes no sense how he's acting at times; like Adam's the cool one or something, which, yeah _right_. It isn't like he's got plans for later, either. He'd just go home and put his headphones on and read or something. "See you." And with one last look, he heads out of the garage and toward his car. It was, he has to admit to himself, smiling a little as he starts the car, _amazing_ to sing like that. Amazing.

~*~

In the weeks leading up to Godspell, Tommy invites Adam over as much as he can. Sometimes Adam shows up, other times, he's got rehearsal, or homework, or just other plans. Tommy buys tickets to the show: he can skip out on his homework after school and he can meet up with Adam, after.

"Hi," he greets, meeting Adam in the hallway outside the backstage area. "That was humongously better than I thought it'd be."

Still dressed in hippie clothes and sweating, Adam smiles. "What, did you think it would suck?"

"No, I just didn't think it'd be _that_ good." Tommy's noticed that Adam's face changes when he smiles, making his features come together into something that's attractive, sweat and hippie clothes and all. There's a satisfaction to Adam that Tommy hasn't seen before, and it's nothing short of awesome. "You got another show tomorrow?"

"Yeah, then two on Sunday." Adam smiles still. "Well, I'm glad you liked it. Thanks for coming. That was really nice of you to come. Um ... " He looks back toward the backstage area, then back to Tommy. "I'm just - the cast isn't hanging out tonight - would you want to go get something to eat? I, um, never eat before a show and I'm kind of starving."

"Well, what do you wanna get?" Tommy's got about twenty bucks in his wallet right now; working evenings at a grocery store doing stock doesn't exactly make anyone rich. "There's this awesome place on Fairleigh and Nine thas fuckin' _fish_ tacos!" Then, he stops. Did Adam just ask him out? Tommy's fairly certain that Adam isn't straight. He knows what his _own_ dick wants, and, well, Tommy's just got a feeling.

It isn't a date. Adam wouldn't even know if one of those hit him in the face. "Great. I'm gonna go change and wash my face? I'll, um, be back in about ten minutes? Just ... I'll be right back, okay?" And he gives Tommy another smile and ducks inside.

True to his world, he reappears with a bag over his shoulder a few minutes later and he's fishing his keys from his pocket. "Did you drive? I can meet you there. Or I can drive if you didn't."

"I don't drive," Tommy admits. "I usually bike." He glances away from Adam and then back, embarrassment showing for half a moment. "My mom dropped me off," he adds. Tommy follows Adam out to his car, rubbing at the black Sharpie on his nails. "We should check out the new releases at Cheapies sometime."

"Um. Okay?" Did Tommy just ask Adam out? Adam climbs into his car and unlocks the door for Tommy, then pulls away. "It's cool you paint your nails," he notes as they drive. "It looks cool."

"It's just Sharpie. I painted 'em red once, when I went and saw Manson for the first time, and my dad just about shit. So... it's marker, 'cause marker's not girly." Tommy holds his hands out in front of him, long fingered and knuckly, then looks at Adam's hands. "Why, d'you wanna paint yours?"

"It might be girly," Adam drawled, rolling his eyes. "I don't know. I never thought about it. I just saw yours and told you it was cool. But not girly, so that's good." Wow, he's suddenly tired. "Do you have a girlfriend?"

Tommy's laugh is short and sudden. "No. I don't. And nailpolish isn't girly, I don't think." He looks at Adam in the passing lights on the street. "Do _you_ have a girlfriend?" Absently, Tommy chews on his lower lip, hoping for some reason that Adam says no.

Adam smirks out the driver's side window. "Nope." Him having a girlfriend. That's funny. It's only a few more blocks to the restaurant.

"What's _that_ look for? It's just a question." Tommy laughs and runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in the back. It's not _quite_ a mohawk, so his mom can't give him shit about it, but the sides of his head are shaved with long bangs in the front. There are questions he wants to ask that he doesn't have the balls to actually _say_, so instead, Tommy stays uncomfortably quiet.

Inside the restaurant with his tray and his food, Adam sits across from Tommy at a booth and he unwraps a taco, taking a careful, hungry bite before he can chew, slouching lower in his seat. "Nobody wants a band at a party, either. I asked."

"Oh." Tommy unwraps his own taco and looks at it, feeling disappointed with Adam's bluntness. "What about if you're singing? Like, did you tell them that?" He takes a bite of his own taco, and hell yeah, it's the shit. "Are you still gonna sing with us? Once the show's done and stuff?" There's still makeup smudged around Adam's eyes, eyeliner from Godspell, and for a moment, Tommy opens his mouth to say it looks good on him. Which, of course, has nothing to do with anything they're talking about right now, but the thought is still there. Instead, he asks, "You wanna come to an all-ages with us, then?"

"You ask a lot of questions," Adam tells him with a smile. "Um, I told them I was singing, yeah, and ... I mean," he says with a shrug. "I ... the school musical is coming up? So I'll go into rehearsals for that? I don't know if I'll have _time_, you know?" Another bite of his taco and he asks, "when's the party?"

_I don't know if I'll have time._ Sure, they've hung out what, five or six times since the first Saturday, but Tommy's found he likes Adam's company, and how the music they jam out to changes him. So, he gives the same answer as he had to the party news. "Oh." Tommy's attention goes to his food, and he's halfway through his taco before he smiles. "I ask a lot of questions 'cause I'm not very smart. And I need to know stuff. That's all." He shrugs. "NRG's got an all-ages night every Friday... they've got a retro room and an industrial room. We should go."

Adam's brows draw together. "What do you mean, you're not very smart? That's a stupid thing to say. You can play Led Zeppelin; not everyone can do that." He takes another bite of his taco and that pretty much finishes off the first one, then he takes a long drink of his soda. "I don't think I'm much of a club person, I mean come on," he chuckles out softly, not meeting Tommy's eyes. "Look at me."

So that's what Tommy does. "You don't know that. Have you ever _been_ to a club? Just think of it like theater... dress up and play a part. It's just to go and have fun, you know?" His eyes flick from Adam's face up to his hair, then down to his hands, then at the way Adam's mouth closes around the straw. "What if you got that temporary dye stuff? Or like, painted your nails?" He kicks Adam under the table, grinning now. "We should totally go. I'm not even fuckin' kidding. Next Friday, we're going."

"Ouch? I can only go next Friday if we go after the show. Don't kick me again!" Adam tells him, but he's grinning. "Listen, it sounds like fun, but ... " He's fat and he's got zits and braces. Those kind of people - like him - stay home. They don't go to clubs with painted nails and dyed hair.

"But what? You just said you can go if we go after your show. So that's totally cool. I'll meet you at the theater and then we can go. Nobody's going to shit if you dye your hair, right? Come over on, like, Wednesday and-" Tommy grins, too excited that he's _this close_ to convincing Adam to go out. "You could even keep your costume on. Nobody'd give a shit... everyone dresses up."

"Ugh," Adam sighs, raising an eyebrow at Tommy. "I can't, okay? I can't. Not during a show. Can't change hair color during a show, mid-run. Why do you care, though? I mean, no offense, you seem really nice and stuff, but ... why me? The singing thing I get, but ... I don't get it. We're totally different."

"Can I answer that when we aren't sitting here? Like, when we leave?" Tommy sucks back his soda and belches into the crook of his elbow. "It's sorta something I feel weird talking about in front of a whole bunch of people." Who aren't listening, and besides, Tommy's definition of a whole bunch of people is two other tables wth people at them, spaced far enough away that they wouldn't hear anything, anyway.

"O ... okay." That's definitely weird. So, Adam concentrates on eating his other taco and finishing his soda and he waits until they're in the car and he doesn't even start it, just sitting there in the driver's seat. "... so?"

"I think you're cute," Tommy says, and his stomach clenches up around those fish tacos. He knows his face is flaming, he can feel the heat that makes his ears throb and his face feel like it's burning. "That's why I asked if you had a girlfriend. That's why I wanted you to sing with us. 'cause I think you're cute. Okay?"

It's a wonder that Adam's jaw doesn't hit the steering wheel as fast as it falls. "... no shit?" He asks, his voice high. He's still staring. "I mean, really?" And he turns away, then, staring unseeing out the windshield. "Wow."

Tommy's quiet for a moment, then he shrugs. "Yeah. Really. If it's fucked up or weird or whatever, you c'n drop me off and pretend this never happened. But I just kinda thought that you're... you know. That you'd be into it, maybe. Even if it's not with me. I don't know. See? I'm not very smart. I say shit when I don't know what's going to happen, and I think you're cool and you've got this fuckin' amazing voice, and-" Tommy stops his own words abruptly, turning to look out his passenger window at nothing in particular.

"Wow," Adam says again, hands clenching and unclenching around the steering wheel. "You could tell I'm ... ? Wow. No one's ever said anything like that to me before. Any ... of that. Wow." Finally, he does turn back, to look at Tommy, his profile. "You really think I'm cute?"

"What, you just wanna hear me say it again?" A smirk touches the corner of Tommy's mouth, and he makes himself look at Adam. "You're cute. I think you're cute. And I didn't know if you were _anything_, but I know what I thought about you." He gnaws at his lower lip for a moment, then leans over and kisses Adam. There, see? Tommy's lips are even parted, just a little, and soft on Adam's mouth.

Adam doesn't even have time to shut his eyes, so he looks like a dork, kissing Tommy back with his eyes open. Or, more accurately, letting Tommy kiss him as he sits there like a dork. So, he's still wide-eyed when Tommy pulls away and he licks the taste from his mouth without even thinking about it. "I think you have bad taste," he whispers, but he's smiling when he says it.

"I think you're an idiot," Tommy answers, and okay, since Adam's smiling, he can smile too. He didn't do the wrong, fucked-up thing where the result is things being equally wrong and fucked up between them. Adam's smiling, and it's one of those smiles that makes Tommy painfully aware of how cute he thinks Adam is. "I mean, was that okay?"

"I have no idea, actually. It was my first kiss." Adam's smile wobbles a little bit before reasserting itself. "Maybe, um, you can ... try again?" And he can be more ready this time.

Tommy doesn't even have time to ask something like _what the fuck do you mean, that's your first kiss?_ before he's kissing Adam again, leaning over the shift stick in the middle, one hand on Adam's shoulder and the other on his cheek. If that was his first kiss, then Adam's second kiss is going to be something _good_, and Tommy _knows_ he's a good kisser. "We should go somewhere and just kiss," he murmurs against Adam's mouth.

"Okay," Adam agrees readily, because kissing is _amazing_. His eyes are closed and he's getting to know what a mouth feels like against his, soft and awesome. When he can finally make himself pull back, he's flushed and feeling as if his body temperature has risen. Somewhere else. Not making out in front of the fish taco place sounds like a really good idea. "Where should we go?" He asks, breathless as he starts the engine.

"Parking lot of the library," Tommy suggests, because who's going to be there at this time of night? He makes himself sit back in his seat and put his seatbelt on, then he gestures at the road. "Let's go, huh?" Ended with a breathy laugh. "I wanna keep going. I wanna keep kissing you."

That makes Adam blush some more and smile still as he drives back to the school, back to the library parking lot. He parks in a far corner where it's dark and he turns off the engine again and undoes his seatbelt to turn to Tommy. "Have you kissed lots of guys?" He asks, but he's reaching for him already, his cheek, his jaw, pulling him closer. He's new to kissing but he's eager.

"Push your seat back," Tommy instructs, making to climb over the shift and onto Adam's lap. Side-by-side kissing is alright, but if Adam's never done this before, then Tommy's going to show him how, properly. "A few," he admits. "A few girls, too. Just to make sure." He brushes his mouth against Adam's, just a little grinned tease, and then fumbles onto Adam's thighs. "Here." It's his turn to cup Adam's face, leaning down to kiss him again.

Wow. So that's what kissing is like. Because Adam's learned fast that it's _awesome_. He finds his hands on Tommy's waist again and he learns how to kiss back and breathe at the same time and it's ... the best thing ever. Kissing? Is. Fucking Amazing.

Adam's right. Kissing _is_ the best thing ever. Almost. But kissing is all Tommy's going to do right now, showing Adam what it's like to kiss, with short little sweeps of their mouths, together. Or longer, urging Adam's mouth open so Tommy can taste the inside of it. When he finally leans back, he's laughing, and he runs a hand through his hair. "You can't seriously tell me you've never kissed someone before."

"I can, because it's true," Adam says, breathless and flushed. "I ... totally haven't ever kissed anyone before. Just ... you." And in the murk of the night, Tommy looks somehow beautiful, his hair like a halo around his head.

"You wanna keep doing it?" Tommy asks, looking down at Adam. It's a funny perspective, when Adam's a good eight inches taller than him any other time, and it lets Tommy actually _look_ at him. The darkness hides freckles and blemishes, leaving behind clear blue eyes and a soft mouth that hides hard metal. "I kinda do." And this weekend coming up, they're going to NRG! Together. Tommy grins and swoops down to kiss Adam.

Did it matter? He's being kissed again and what surprises each time, Adam is caught off-guard by the heat that comes as a result of it, how there's a dull ache between his legs, how it makes his body feel tingly. He gets his hands lost in spiky blond hair. He just can't help thinking over and over again, that kissing is _awesome_.

After a while, though, Tommy has to make himself pull back. If Adam's never been kissed before, then Tommy's gotta do something about his self control before it starts to slip and he starts to _touch_ Adam to go along with the kissing. His mouth feels swollen and warm, his stomach fluttery, his groin tight, but he looks at Adam and smiles, crooked and open-mouthed. "What d'ya think?"

"I think it's awesome," Adam tells him, eyes skittering between Tommy's mouth and eyes. "Really awesome." He's still holding him too, so he slowly pries his fingers away. " ... what did you think?" It occurs to him to ask. He didn't suck, did he?

No, Adam didn't suck. Not at all, and Tommy's been with guys who have no idea how to kiss. "I think we should get something to eat tomorrow after your show again. And come back here? If you want." Adam's hands were warm on Tommy's body, and it's almost like he can feel the shapes of them even after Adam lets him go. "But I should probably go home, you know? 'cause I didn't tell my mom that I was going out after the show." Tommy kisses Adam one more time, but it's short and soft, and then he gets back into the passenger seat of the car.

"Um, okay." Suddenly Adam's lap is empty and he's sad. Weird. He starts the car again and does up his seatbelt. It gives him time to get his wits about him somewhat. "I can, um, get you a ticket to the show? If you want to see it again."

"Yeah, I do." Tommy smiles down at his knees before angling it up at Adam. "You were really good, and, uh. I mean. I've been watching you for a while. Not 'cause I know you sing, but because, you know. 'cause of this. 'cause I wanted to do this." What they've just done, when Tommy can still feel Adam's mouth against his own, if he thinks about it. "I'm sorry if it was weird."

"It's okay." Seeing as how they made out and all. Adam finally put the car into reverse and took off out of the parking lot. "I can, um, I can pick you up, tomorrow, if you want. If you don't mind hanging out at the theatre an hour before the show?"

"Nope. Lemme know what time to be ready and that's cool." For a moment, Tommy has to stop himself from putting his hand over Adam's, to hold it, or squeeze his fingers. It's not like they're _boyfriends_, right? "Should I dress up or something? I saw a couple of guys in ties n' shit..." He's in a scrappy old Metallica shirt and jeans, his Docs giving him _maybe_ an extra inch and a half of height. The thought of wearing a tie to one of Adam's shows... kind of sucks, when Tommy pictures it.

"You don't have to," Adam tells him. If he'd known Tommy wanted to hold his hand, he'd probably had exploded into glitter or something; it's better this way. "I'll pick you up at 6:45, if that's okay." He looks over then away, back on the road, then. "That'll be ... fun." Which isn't the right word, but it'll do.

It'll totally do, and when Adam pulls up in front of Tommy's place, the lights are out inside except for one in the kitchen, and Tommy's fairly sure that's where his mom's sitting, probably doing a crossword while waiting for him. "See you tomorrow," he smiles, and leans over to kiss Adam one more time. "I really had fun tonight, huh? I'll see you tomorrow." One kiss doesn't seem like enough, so Tommy does it again, and when he pulls back, it feels like his heart is pounding like a bass drum. "Bye." After fishing his keys out of his pocket, Tommy smiles at Adam and gets out of the car, feeling a little bit like he's leaving something unfinished. But with a wave, he goes up the driveway and into his house.

"Bye," Adam whispers, watching Tommy walk away. Wow. he hadn't expected that to happen, that's for sure.

So when the next night rolls around, he's in Tommy's driveway again, and his stomach is nervous for some reason. He'd gone home and in the dark of his room, he'd jerked off, thinking of Tommy's mouth. So he's probably a little flushed when Tommy appears, smiling lopsidedly. "Hi."

"Hey." Tommy gets in the car, dressed much the same as he'd been last night, except his t-shirt is Marilyn Manson, bordering on tight, and black jeans, also tight, and sitting just below the jut of his hipbones. It feels like the right thing to do to lean over and kiss Adam, especially after he'd done the same thing last night while thinking about Adam's mouth against his. _This_ is why kissing is so fucking great: it leaves just about everything else to the imagination, and Tommy's got a _good_ imagination. "You nervous about tonight?"

"Yes," Adam laughs. "But not about the show." The admission _is_ funny, but embarrassing too; he can feel his face and neck heat and just one kiss makes him want more. He licks over his mouth, and then he reaches out, hand fisting in Tommy's shirt to pull him closer for another kiss, slower. Shit, it's better than he remembers it being.

They're still in front of Tommy's house, and as tempting as it would be to make Adam push the seat back so they can have a repeat of last night right _now_, his parents are right inside and he doesn't want them to see. Up close like this, his heart hammers in his chest again and his skin feels prickly and hot; he can't quite believe that it was so _easy_ to kiss Adam in the first place, and how easy it is to do it now. "Okay," Tommy breathes, pulling away. "We gotta go. Save it for after, huh?" Adam gets a lopsided smile of his own from Tommy before he settles back in his seat. Fuck, he's hard now, so Tommy slouches forward a little in an attempt to hide it.

Adam is too distracted to notice, so the time backstage is good, actually, so he can focus a bit. Of course, he's thinking of Tommy being out there, about his mouth, but Adam likes to think he's professional enough to not let it bother him. Much.

Forever later, though it's only three and a half hours later, they're back in the parking lot and Adam has his hands up under Tommy's shirt this time, touching warm, bare skin as they kiss. He's hard again, and his hips rock up reflexively; he gasps. "Sorry."

"Shit, really? Don't be." Tommy moves in Adam's lap, hips moving one way and then the other, _encouraging_ Adam to do it again. Even though Tommy feels feverish, Adam's hands feel warmer than his skin, and it makes him press against Adam with kisses that get breathy and messy. Patience: Tommy's not good at it, he's discovering, so he leans back to catch his breath for a second. "Music," he suggests. It'll cover up the stupid little sounds he makes when he and Adam kiss.

"Okay." Adam has to reach around Tommy, though, turning up the knob on the radio; classic rock, which works, right? Then, with a breath hitched in his chest, he lets his hand land on Tommy's ass and he rocks up again, moaning. "Oh, God, I'm ... _so_ turned on right now. You're an amazing kisser."

The sound of Adam's voice like that, like _that_, makes Tommy's stomach turn into something like molten lava, heavy and hot and startling, all at once. "Shit," he whispers, reaching down to find the lever that'll put Adam's seat out flat so they can _move_ and _kiss_ and Adam can make more fucking noises like that. With the bridge of his nose, Tommy urges Adam's head back so he can kiss down the side of his neck, fingers pulling t-shirt material out of the way so he can leave a mark on Adam's skin, just below his collarbone. When Tommy moves his hips, it's to feel Adam through his pants and for Adam to feel that Tommy's hard, too. "Tell me what you wanna do, then. And we can do it."

"I don't know what to do," Adam admits, chuckling a little, even as his teeth clack together with the bite, at the friction. "But I know I don't want it to be in a car." But where to go? His parents are probably in bed, but his brother's awake, for sure. Obviously can't go to Tommy's house. Ugh, he sighs, taking Tommy's mouth again, hand tightening on his ass.

But there's the garage at Tommy's house, which is very nearly an off-limits zone for his parents. This time of night, all they'd care about is that Tommy's friend has a way to get himself home. "I know where to go," Tommy breathes, licking at Adam's mouth. "The loveseat in my garage. How 'bout it?" When Adam squeezes Tommy's ass, Tommy can't help but grind his hips, and it makes his breath shudder against Adam's lips. "I think we should do this lying down proper."

"God, okay, yeah." Even if Adam can't bear to stop kissing for a few minutes; it's addictive, even if they both still taste like the pizza they'd picked up and scarfed before making out. Then it's a matter of getting Tommy off him and sitting up. Adam's jeans are _chafing_, and he can't stop touching, his hand wrapping around Tommy's leg as he drives. He can't believe he's driving somewhere to get naked with someone. Well, maybe naked. God, the idea makes his stomach twist up, but want is still stronger.

When they arrive at Tommy's house, Tommy sticks his head inside to call to his mom that he's got Adam with him and they're going to hang out in the garage and listen to music. The answer that comes back sounds like something too good to be true: that she's glad Tommy's home so she can go to bed. Tommy gives Adam a grin and shuts the garage door so it's just them, alone. "C'mere and fuckin' kiss me."

Adam can definitely do that. He's over in front of Tommy and holds his face in his hands and they're kissing again, even if they're standing. "I thought," he says between kisses, "that you said something about lying down." How had he never noticed how _cute_ Tommy is? That turned up nose, that _mouth_. God.

"Yeah," Tommy breathes, and pulls Adam toward the loveseat and down onto his smaller body. This way, if Adam wants to do something, _needs_ to do something, he's in the right position to do it. Not that Tommy's easy, but wow, god, he's been watching Adam for half the semester before mustering up the balls to talk to him in the first place. And now they're _here._ One of Tommy's legs hooks around Adam's, and when he presses their hips together, it's with a thin, low sound.

"Oh, my God," Adam breathes out, head falling to Tommy's shoulder. "I have no idea what to do," he admits, though there's nothing new to that. "I just ... I want. I just really want."

"I can jerk you off," Tommy whispers against Adam's hair, feeling how it sticks to his lips when he dampens them with his tongue. "Is that, like, way too much? Or do you just wanna kiss and do this?" This, where Tommy rocks up against Adam in a rhythm that could go a _lot_ further than just makeout. If Adam wants to keep his clothes on, there's this. If he doesn't, then there are other things. They're tangled in a clumsy knot of arms and legs and kisses, but wherever either of them move feels _good._

"Shit," Adam hisses, a hand curling in Tommy's hair. "I - no one's ever seen me naked." With his forehead to Tommy's cheek, he admits, "I'm fat and ugly. I don't know."

Too late, he realizes that that is the stupidest thing ever to say while making out. It so figures he'd sabotage this for himself. Dumbass. "I'm sorry."

"If I thought you were fat and ugly, I wouldn't be making out with you." Tommy's laugh is breathy, and he nudges at Adam until they can look at each other. "I kinda think you're hot, okay? But if it's weird for you, I'm not gonna make you do anything, huh? 'cause that's shitty." He kisses Adam's lower lip, catching it just for a moment. "Or I can turn off the lights?"

"Turning off the lights would be good," Adam admits. "What - what have you done before?" Not that he really wants to know, a knot of jealousy in his stomach, but how far ahead, exactly, is Tommy?

Tommy eases out from under Adam to flick the lights off, leaving them in darkness that's heavy enough that Adam hears Tommy stub his toe on something before collapsing onto him on the loveseat. "Enough," he admits, using his fingertips to find Adam's mouth so he can kiss against it. "It's just like doing it to yourself, except it's to someone else."

The idea makes Adam shudder and before he can lose his courage, he pulls at the hem of Tommy's shirt, tugging it up to get it away. "I - okay." The desire was hot enough that he was sweating a little. "Okay."

Tommy's arms go up so Adam can strip the shirt off, and then he's working at Adam's jeans, at the button and zipper. It's not easy in the dark, especially when his eyes haven't quite adjusted well enough to see anything more than black-on-black shadows. There's no music now; Tommy can hear the sounds of their kisses and the rush of their breathing, and he slides his hand down between them, in the front of Adam's jeans. "Oh," he breathes. "Wow."

The sound Adam makes is kind of a helpless whimper at the touch. Tommy's hand is _hot_ it feels like. "Oh, God." He's got his face in Tommy's neck, bare now and he sucks a mark, becaus ehe needs to do something. He has to. All the sensations are out of his control; he can feel his cock twitch in Tommy's hand. Fuck.

"Mmh," Tommy answers, tipping his head back, feeling the way his toes tighten and curl in his boots, and it actually takes him a moment to get his courage together to pull Adam's cock out of his shorts and _touch_ him, skin to skin. "Is that okay?" he husks, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the slit at the tip. "Is it?" Adam's cock is _big_, and for a second, Tommy's not entirely sure of what else they could do, that _he_ could do, with it. For now, though, he'll just touch. And kiss. And god, _kiss._

The sound was supposed to be an "uh-huh," but at Tommy's skin against his, Adam gets it out kind of strangled and tight. How can one hand feel so different from his own? It totally does, though, rougher and that much more sensitive. "Oh, God."

"Okay." Tommy's answer is unsteady, and in between kisses, he brings his hand up to his mouth to lick across the palm, slicking his stroke when he wraps his fingers around Adam again. "Holy jeez," he whispers, nipping one of Adam's earlobes. "I'm really fuckin' hot for you." The admission comes with a short laugh, a twist of Tommy's wrist, and a stab of want low in his guts. "You feel really good, y'know?"

"So do _you_," Adam whispers, because that's pretty much all he can feel. Just the way Tommy touches him, the way he kisses him. It makes him dizzy and shaking and shivery. _I'm really fuckin' hot for you_. Words that he's never heard before. They add to the whole experience; he has to close his eyes, clinging to Tommy's arms.

"'kay," Tommy says, and he pushes up against Adam's thigh, his hand speeding up in increments that match the itchy, deep want that sits in Tommy. God, he wants to get off so _bad_, but knowing he's Adam's first - or at least, he can assume, with the whole kissing thing - is way more important. He pants against Adam's ear or against his mouth, depending on where he's kissing, the reactions he's hearing and feeling acting as a tease when he can't _see_ them.

"I'm gonna," Adam whispers. "I'm gonna - " And that's all he can get out before his teeth clack together and he arches up. His orgasm is like none he's ever had. It kind of feels like the top of his head flies right off and everything goes white, even in the dark of the garage.

"Shit, shit. Oh my god." Whispered and awed and pretty fucking triumphant all at once, Tommy's words are blurry, and Adam can feel the shape of Tommy's smile in the kiss that lands on his neck. "Wow." Tommy's stroke slows until Adam's only shaking under him instead of jerking, and he pulls his hand away. "That was fuckin' intense, okay?"

Still shivering, Adam nods dumbly. He even has to work at letting go of Tommy's arms. "I ... have never felt anything like that. Ever." Ever. He still feels warm and tingly and a little stupid. "Oh my God."

Then, Tommy laughs, holding his hand cupped, his other bracing his weight. "There's _way_ more to it than just that. But that... wow. I wish I coulda seen you." He leans down, his kisses clumsy in the dark, and then pulls back to slither off the side of the loveseat and onto his knees on the floor. "You want something to drink?"

"Wait, what about - um." Still Adam laid there, hands flopping uselessly at his sides. "Shouldn't I - ?"

Somehow, Tommy understands what Adam's trying to say. "You want me to show you how?" Adam's come is wiped on the thigh of Tommy's jeans as Tommy feels for him in the dark, feels where his hands are, his legs, so he can get between them again. Oh hell, that would be _great_ if Adam wanted to do it back. Now, Tommy can just barely see the lines of Adam's face, and in hopes that Adam can see him, he smiles, little and hopeful.

He can see the flash of teeth and it makes Adam smile too. Plus, it's kind of nice to have Tommy over him again. It feels safer than Tommy being somewhere else. "I think I kinda know the basics," he says, because yeah, he's done that to himself. And this is only fair, he figures. He finds Tommy's belt and undoes it, then his fly too. That's when nerves hit and he makes something like a "whoo" sound before he gets the nerve to brush his knuckles over the hardness there.

Tommy breathes out a "haah" sound in answer to Adam's "whoo", and it's just when he goes to kiss Adam that he feels the touch; it makes Tommy's kiss land crooked, against the corner of Adam's mouth. "Yeah," he agrees. "It's kinda... it's a handjob, right?" Common knowledge among guys. Tommy's eyes fall closed and he rests his forehead against Adam's jaw.

It's easy then to hook his arm around Tommy's shoulders and in that, it's like Adam is giving Tommy something, something special and sweet and it settles him. He starts to stoke like he likes to do to himself, long strokes, root to tip then a twist of the wrist as he presses soft kisses against Tommy's temple.

What Adam might call 'the basics' doesn't feel very fucking basic to Tommy. Yeah, he's keyed up and hot from doing this to Adam, but Adam's fingers aren't like his own, or like any Tommy's had. They're warm and soft and broad, and they're entirely new to doing this. "Fuck," he says, and it comes out quiet and factual, and his hips push forward into Adam's hand.

That would be what Adam would say, but he's got his eyes shut tight and he's feeling Tommy's cock and the warmth of his body and the thing he's feeling most of all is that this feels so _right_. Like this is something he's meant to do. To be gay and to do this. To touch other guys. "You feel good," he whispers and he jerks him off and he doesn't ever want it to end.

But it has to end, and when Tommy hears Adam's words, he shudders out a sound and tenses against Adam, panting against his neck. "I'm- mm-" He's getting come on Adam's hand and on his shirt, but he can't bring himself to care when it feels so good. Even when it's over and it's Tommy's turn to be bonenless and stupid, he settles down against Adam to catch his breath.

The wave of power, of _I did that_ has Adam grinning in the dark. He doesn't let go of Tommy, either, feeling like he wants to protect the other boy, still, which while dumb, is still strong. "I did all right?"

"Mhm," Tommy blurs. "What time's your first show tomorrow?" Maybe Adam'll want to stay a little longer, hang out. They could go into the basement and put on a dvd or play PS2 or something.

"At two," Adam answers in a murmur. His hand is sticky and that's cool and gross at the same time. It's almost midnight by now. He should call or go home soon, but he's loathe to move. "What else have you done?" He asks, mouth still pressed to Tommy's hair.

"I will probably still be sleeping," Tommy informs Adam, but he's smiling. It fades at Adam's question, though, because it feels weird to tell someone who's never done _anything_ before that he's gone all the way. Twice with the same person, and Tommy's not ashamed of it, but it makes him feel strange, now. "Lots," he says, instead, and lifts his head so he can kiss Adam, his hair hanging in his eyes.

_Lots_. Something twists again in Adam's stomach, a combination of want and jealousy. "Was it with anyone I know?" Which is, he realizes again, kind of a stupid thing to say. Again.

The warm sensation that they'd had a few moments ago is gone, and Tommy's stomach ties itself into a snug knot. This is dangerous territory, suddenly. "I don't think so," he says, his tone careful. "His name's Corey." He and Tommy had trusted each other more than anything else, and now Corey's graduated and gone. "He's a year older than me. We don't talk anymore if that's what you're saying."

Adam nods. It's not his business, is it? Perhaps at the very base of it, it's just that Adam doesn't trust this. Doesn't trust that Tommy really wants him for him. But who would? "Maybe I should go," he says, even if the idea makes him ache. "Two shows tomorrow." Which is a lame excuse but it does give him an out. This is a lot to deal with, after all. Or that's what he tells himself.

Oh. Okay. So Tommy moves off of Adam, fixing his jeans so he's decent, and feels through the dark to flick a light on so he can find his shirt, too. "Yeah. If... if you wanna call me after, I'll be around. Don't go out on Sundays... school night, you know?" Tommy weasels into his shirt and makes himself walk up to Adam again. "Thanks for coming over, huh? I like hanging out with you." Especially for this part, now: Tommy gets up on his toes and kisses Adam, short but sweet, and settles back again.

"I'll talk to you later," Adam whispers. Briefly, he wonders if he should stay. Self-defense tells him to go, though. Protect himself. He's relatively decent and he can go home and take a bath. But he can taste Tommy's mouth against his and it makes him want. "Bye." Then he goes, out the garage door and to his car.

At home, he sits in the dark, hair still drying from the shower and he closes his eyes and can feel Tommy's mouth and hand on him. He bites his lower lip when he jerks off again.

~*~

Something happens after that night. Adam finds that his appetite has kind of disappeared. He barely eats any lunch and nothing after dinner. He drinks what feels like gallons of water.

He starts to lose weight.

He sees Tommy, too. Adam, though, keeps a bit of distance. He doesn't even know why. He just does. Tommy doesn't push him, either, only being friendly when they can hang out. Tommy doesn't go see Godspell again, instead trying to not fail his classes and definitely not think about how Adam's looking.

"What're you doing this weekend?" Tommy finally asks, catching Adam after the bell. "You wanna do something?"

"Um." Adam looks around at the busy hallway before he looks back at Tommy. "Like what?"

"Don't know," Tommy shrugs. "Maybe go see a movie, or, like, jam or something. Dave's going to the cottage, and like-" He feels just about as awkward now asking Adam to sing with him as he did the first time. "-I figured we could play."

"Um." When Tommy is close, Adam can see those eyes and that nose and that mouth and he swallows hard. "Yeah, I guess we could do that, yeah." And he smiles a little tentatively, feeling something fizz in his stomach.

"Cool, okay." Even Adam's skin's starting to clear up, and Tommy realizes just how freckled Adam really is. He _likes_ it. "I'll see you in class." For a moment, Tommy gnaws on his lower lip before making himself turn away and head outside for a cigarette, textbooks held across his hips. They're _not_ boyfriends. Adam isn't ready, as much as Tommy wants him to be. God.

Adam watches him go before he can turn away and go to class, his body feeling hot and foreign.

That weekend, though, he shows up at Tommy's garage already in a size smaller jeans and t-shirt and his hair's a little looser around his face. He approaches tentatively, his hands in his pockets. "Hey," he says at the doorway.

"C'mon in," Tommy answers. He's got an acoustic guitar around his neck and there's music on, something Tommy's trying to figure out how to play. He'd tried on the soundtrack for Godspell - turns out his mom has it on a record - but Tommy can't _feel_ it. So now he's got on Tool, and that's suiting him just fine. "There's stuff in the fridge if you're thirsty."

It could be the very same day that Adam had first come over to Tommy's, for all he's being careful about what to say to Adam. "My mom and dad are out, so we can get loud if you want."

There are all kinds of meanings there and Adam smiles a little bit as he goes over and rummages around in the fridge, finally pulling out a water. "Thanks. What are you listening to? It sounds ... interesting." Not his taste, again, but he wanders around the edges of the garage. Tommy's parents aren't home and all Adam can think about is Tommy, naked.

"I'm trying to figure out how to do an acoustic version of Hooker With A Penis... it's a song about selling out and I think it'd really work if I could find the right rhythm to it." Tommy shrugs and turns the music off, instead letting his fingers noodle against the guitar strings. "I got a pile of CD's there, if you wanna go through them." Tommy's parents aren't home and all Tommy can think about is Adam, naked. This probably wasn't a good idea.

So that's where Adam wanders next, over to the pile of CDs and he sifts through them, finally pulling out a Jeff Buckley CD with a smile. "I was about to give up hope," he teases and he turns to hand it to Tommy. "How are you? Are you okay?" Since it's been a while since they'd .... well, made out.

"Hey, I've got great taste in music." Tommy quirks a smile at Adam, wrinkle-nosed and fake-insulted. But he finds a song to play along with, his smile softening as his pick moves up and down the strings. "I'm okay. School's killing me. I'm trying to bust my ass so I can graduate." He glances at Adam's face and away, just a peek at his expression. "Are you okay? You've been acting weird towards me."

"I'm sorry," Adam answered, chagrined. "I kind of freaked out. That wasn't fair. I was just kind of ... yeah, freaking out. I just I never did that before and you had, and ... " He shrugs, fading off. "I ... I don't know."

Tommy nods, tucking the pick between his knuckles so he can finger-pick, or at least make an attempt at it. "You asked and I answered, and it was like... you didn't really wanna know, so I don't know why you asked in the first place." Fuck that: the guitar comes off entirely and is leaned up against the same table the stereo sits on. "I wasn't trying to push you or nothing, you know?"

"I know. I wanted to know but I didn't want to know at the same time. Because it feels like we don't hardly know each other, you know? And we were ... " Adam feels his face heat. "We were doing those things. It was ... kind of sudden, I guess?"

"I was kinda thinking that because we did that and we didn't know each other that we'd totally hang out more, do stuff, you know?" Which is, in its vaguest sense, dating. Hanging out together and doing stuff. Plus what they'd already been doing, kissing and touching. Tommy turns his back to get a Coke from the fridge, and tells it, instead of Adam, "I still think you're hot."

"I think you're gorgeous," Adam murmurs, holding his bottle tightly, watching the line of Tommy's spine. "I think about what we did all the time."

"Me too." There's the sound of _crack-fsssht!_ when Tommy opens his can, but when he stands, it's to set his drink on top of the fridge so he can look at Adam. "So now what do you wanna do? Do you wanna forget about it and be friends, or like... be more?"

"I've never had to have this discussion." Adam smiles down at his feet, then back at Tommy. He just looks for a while. "I guess I don't know."

With a sigh, Tommy grabs his Coke and sits on the loveseat, where he and Adam had made out, before. He sits here a lot and thinks about it, how Adam felt in the nearly complete dark, and what it might be like again, but with music on. Just the two of them. And his parents aren't home. And his sister's sleeping over at her stupid friend's house. And Adam is _right there._ "C'mere," Tommy says, softly.

Something catches in the back of Adam's throat but he comes forward anyway. And when he's close enough, Tommy can see that he's painted his toenails since Adam's only wearing flipfllops. He looks down at Tommy and somehow in the next moment, he's on his knees, hands on Tommy's knees and leaning forward and he's kissing him.

When Tommy's hands come down on Adam's shoulders, it's to curl into the fabric of his shirt and pull him closer, lips parting into the kiss and tongue touching at Adam's mouth. "Nice toes," he murmurs when he has to breathe, and then one hand slides up to the back of Adam's head, fingers tangling in the longer, strawberry-blonde mess of Adam's hair.

Only a few moments later, Adam's crawling up onto the sofa and that seems to answer the question of what they're going to do. More than friends.

The weight keeps coming off, his face keeps getting clearer. He's still got his braces, but he can't do a thing about that. He keeps having to buy new pants, though and by the time the Spring musical rolls around, he's down under 200 pounds and he knows what it feels like to rock his hips and bury himself deep in Tommy's body, breathing in his scent.

"I love you," he says one night, sweat still drying along his spine, Tommy pulled tight to him.

It's late and they're on the couch in Tommy's basement, some useless movie or another on the TV to use as an excuse. Around Tommy's parents, they're friends, best friends - sorry Dave - and when Adam's not doing theater and Tommy's not working, they're together. Just hanging out. Until they're alone. Then, this. "I love you too," Tommy says, and laughs a little. "I was fuckin' scared as shit to say it in case you didn't feel it."

"Don't be scared," Adam tells him, smiling. "I love you," he says again, smiling, as they're nose to nose. "Love you, love you, love you." And it makes him laugh and touch, fingers running familiarly over Tommy's body.

With losing weight, Adam's gained confidence in himself, and Tommy shows him how hot he thinks he is with notes passed during class that talk about how stupid the teacher is, how boring the class itself is. But there's always this little scribble before Tommy's name that, if Adam squinted at it, could be a heart. Maybe. "I love you," he says against Adam's mouth, and when he says it again, it's overridden by another voice.

"Tommy Joe! Where's my-" Tommy's sister stands at the bottom of the stairs to see where he put her copy of Romeo Must Die, and then claps her hand over her eyes. "Oh my god, what are you _doing!_"

"Shit!" Adam scrambles for the blanket on the back of the sofa, pulling it down over them. "Shit." Then he starts to laugh, because it's either that or cry. "Hi, Lisa." Really, it's kind of the worst way to be outed, isn't it? Well, no, second-worse. It could have been Tommy's mom.

"Please don't tell me I just saw my brother naked with a guy," Lisa says to Adam, because really, this isn't anything she wants to remember. In fact, if Adam or Tommy said she didn't see it, Lisa would be more than happy to believe it. She goes up the stairs until they're out of her line of vision, and while Tommy all but hyperventilates against Adam, she answers, "Hi, Adam. Tommy, do Mom and Dad know? Holy shit."

"No, Lisa, and if you tell them, I swear to god, I'm going to show them that shit you write about on the computer. Your boyband fantasy stuff." Tommy sounds sick. Hell, he _feels_ sick. As far as anyone else knows, he and Adam are just friends. "I swear to god, Lisa."

"You _suck_, Tommy Joe. Where's my Jet Li movie? Actually, you know what? Forget about it. Give it to me later." She fakes a vomit-sound and goes upstairs to the main floor.

"That was awkward," Adam titters out. "Wow." But he's hugging Tommy and rubbing his back. "It's okay. It'll be okay. I don't think she'll tell. And if she does, we'll just, um, talk to your parents." Which is just about as terrifying as anything, but well, that's what love is, right? Gulp.

"My dad's gonna kill me," Tommy says, but he realizes that's only _if_ Lisa says anything. "Your mom, she- does she know? She never bugs us when I'm over there with you." The panic at being caught is still high, but Tommy's using Adam's presence and his own excuses to tame it back. Lisa won't tell, she knows better. With a two year age gap between them, Tommy's got enough of her secrets to make her life pretty putrid, too. "I love you," he says to Adam one more time, just in case Adam forgot.

"It's okay," Adam repeats, cuddling Tommy. "I promise." The mention of his mom though, gets him thinking. "I haven't told her, but I think she suspects, you know? We just haven't said it out loud." It's just awkwardness he'd rather avoid for as long as he can, even if he knows she'll be okay with it.

"Goddammit, she scared the _shit_ out of me!" Tommy lets out a wild little laugh, and shifts around under the blanket to get comfortable again. Then he tries to dismiss the idea of Lisa and coming out and parents by kissing Adam again. "When does spring theater start?"

"Next week." And Adam pouts a little bit because that seriously cuts into time when they can do this. "I'll miss you." Said between kisses and soothing touches. "You should work tech or something so we can make out in the wings."

"I'll see what I can do." Maybe it's so intense because it's so quiet, a secret that they've got between them (and now with stupid fucking Lisa, too), but there _is_ that sense of urgency with not seeing each other. "I'll miss you, too." Tommy quirks a smile at Adam. "Wanna go again, before you've gotta go home?" All it takes is a little more movement for Tommy to hook his heel against the back of Adam's knee. "Making out in the wings sounds fun."

Laughing softly, Adam curves himself over Tommy's body, licking into his mouth. He most definitely wants to go again.

Rehearsals start and they're four nights a week and on Sunday afternoons. Adam and Tommy talk on the phone a lot and steal moments when they can. Saturday nights are theirs though, in Tommy's garage or the basement, touching frantic and wanting, except for one night, late, after, when Adam holds the box of hair dye. "Should I?"

Of course Tommy's nodding. His own hair is still faintly violet from his last bleach-out, and he's been thinking how great Adam would look with black hair for _ages._ "Here, I can do it for you, okay? It's gonna look awesome."

"... okay." With a nervous sigh, Adam hands over the box and shrugs. "It's only hair, right? It'll grow out if it looks bad."

"Yep." They're in the basement bathroom, which is double-plus safety-featured (meaning, there's a lock on the door), and when it's time to rinse Adam's hair, Tommy gets in the shower with him and studiously rinses greyish water from Adam's hair. "It looks... Wow." Even though Tommy's behind Adam, Adam can hear the grin in Tommy's voice.

"Well," Adam says, reaching up to feel hair that feels squeaky, turning to face his boyfriend - yes, boyfriend. Even through it's drippy and wet, he asks, shaking his head. "How does it look?"

Tommy pushes Adam's hair to the side, then gets up on his toes to kiss him, feet squeaking against the floor. "It's really different. It's _really_ different. I like it, but... wow." It makes Adam's eyes look nearly grey, washes his skin pale, and just makes everything else stand out. "I wanna see it dry." That's a tough call, though. Tommy's got Adam right here with him, naked, and in the same turn of thought, having Tommy lean in and kiss at Adam's neck reinforces that Tommy does like it.

Any touch never fails to make Adam shiver, but he has to admit that curiosity overrides sex. For now. He gives Tommy another kiss and then he's turning off the water and stepping out, reaching for a towel to dry himself.

A few minutes later, he was leaning into the mirror, combing gel through his hair, arranging it around his head. He chews on his lower lip as he looks and it's clear in a moment that he's biting back his smile. "Oh my God," he laughs when he sees Tommy behind him. "I don't look like myself anymore. I love it."

"I liked how you looked before," Tommy defends, but he's smiling, too. "It looks fuckin' good, huh?" He's got a towel around his waist, and is fishing for the shirt he was wearing before they'd gotten in the shower together. He sits on the toilet seat and looks up at Adam instead of looking at his reflection. "You wanna go out tomorrow night and show it off?"

"Um." Still finger-combing through his hair, pretty much stunned, Adam can't help but smile. "Yeah. I think that'd be ... kinda great." He bends down, kissing Tommy firmly. "I know you liked how I looked before. But I like this."

"I'm just saying that how you looked before was good, too." Tommy smiles, watching how Adam looks at himself in the mirror, and after the kiss, he stands, looking at Adam's hair, too. It's like ink, it's so black, so much the opposite of how light it had been before, and even though Adam's got it styled and in place, Tommy still wants to touch it.

"I love you," Adam whispers, pulling Tommy to him. He won't get home til late again tonight, but his mom's used to it, by now.

The party's at Tommy's friend Mia's place. Adam's met her a few times in passing, and there are people inside the house in the basement, outside on the patio, or sitting around the outdoor fireplace Mia's dad's got.

"Adam, oh my _god_, look at your hair!" This is how Mia greets Adam before throwing herself on Tommy for a big hug. This is the last big party before exams and before Grad, and with what Tommy's confided in Mia about himself and Adam, it's nice to be able to just _hang out._ "There's soda inside, and water out here, and I think Dave brought a bottle, if you wanna get drunk. We can always get into my dad's liquor cabinet, too..."

"I'm good, thanks, though," Adam says with a smile, hands in his pockets as he looks around. All the changes and he still doesn't feel like he fits in. But it bothers him less these days. "I'll just get a soda." And he looks to Tommy, his face a question as to what he can get Tommy.

"He'll have a beer," Mia supplies. "There are cans of Bud in the fridge, too. Your hair looks _so good!_ I wanna touch it." Grinning, she comes up on Adam, hands raised as if getting ready to muss him up. "Are you going to Grad? No wait, you're a year younger, aren't you? Anyway, get your drink and come back and sit with us!"

"Sure, beer," Tommy adds, and smiles at Adam, sweet and little and knowing that Adam knows what it means. _I love you._ And Grad's coming, now that Mia's mentioned it, and Tommy thinks that he's actually going to graduate with everyone. Which means he needs a date. When Adam goes to get the drinks, he pulls Mia in for a Very Serious Discussion about it.

Caught in a conversation with someone he knows peripherally, Adam comes back to find them talking, their heads together. He nudges the bottle of beer into Tommy's hand with a smile. "Is this a private conversation? I can go elsewhere."

"No!" Mia grins, leaning back. "You can totally join in, huh Tommy?"

Tommy takes the beer from Adam and has a long drink. It feels a little bit like his face is burning, like he and Mia were caught doing something they actually weren't. "Yeah," he says, once he's swallowed, and doesn't say much more than that. He can't lie to Adam about what they were talking about; he's not smart enough to do it convincingly. But he's not about to tell the truth, either.

"He wants to ask you to Grad." Mia offers them both a bright grin and then leaves them to go talk to a group of girls who're pouring beer into a funnel and then shotgunning it.

"I was going to go to your graduation anyway?" Adam gives Tommy a quizzical look. "What am I missing?" He takes the spot that Mia vacated and surreptitiously touches Tommy's cheek before dropping his hand. "Why are you blushing?"

"She means as my date." Tommy can't make himself look Adam in the eyes, and looks somewhere over his shoulder, instead. "Like, to the dinner and dance after. _That_ kind of going to to Grad with me." His mouth flattens into a little line for a moment, then Tommy gives Adam an embarrassed smile. "How 'bout it?"

"Oh my God." And Adam's mouth fell open, his eyes like saucers. "... really?" The idea knots up his stomach, to be honest, but the sentiment has _him_ blushing now, too. "... really?"

Tommy glances around at the patio. Nobody's looking at them, which, whatever, would be totally normal if they were having a totally normal conversation. But Tommy's about to ask Adam to _Grad_, so naturally everyone has to be listening, right now. He looks up at Adam, beer in hand, and asks, "You _really_ wanna go to Grad with me?"

"Um." And Adam has to give his head a shake. And he can feel people looking too and it's suddenly this Really Big Deal and he's freaking out a little bit too. "Well, yeah. I mean of course. Of course." And he holds his pop and gawps at his boyfriend. Who everyone at school will know is his boyfriend. Holy _shit_.

"Okay, cool. I mean, given that I graduate and everything." Tommy shrugs and tries to make it look casual, when really, right now, all he wants to do is get Adam up along the dark side of the house so he can _kiss_ him and laugh and be relieved that he didn't fuck it up. It's an easy urge to give in to. "You, uh, you wanna go for a walk?"

"Yeah," Adam whispers and he sets his soda down and wipes his hands on his jeans. And when they find that dark spot, he cups Tommy's cheeks and kisses him almost fiercely. "Are you sure?" He asks, mumbled, between the press of mouths. "You have to talk to your parents and people are going to talk."

"I know," Tommy murmurs, hands running into the deep black of Adam's hair. "I know. I'm sure. I'm not gonna be there next year, so it's okay." Mia was the one who'd pointed that out to Tommy, with the reminder of not to be like Corey, because Adam isn't some kind of experimentation. Adam's the real thing. "If anybody tries anything with you when I'm not there, I'll fuck 'em up." Tommy's bottle is cold against the back of Adam's shoulder, so he pulls back for a second to set it on the ground.

"I ... don't care," Adam said, pulling Tommy close again, holding his face so he could look at him in the murk. It's a revelation. "I don't care." And he kisses Tommy again. If Tommy's willing to do this for him? How can Adam not meet him halfway? "God," he whispers, "I love you."

"I've been thinking about it." Tommy's words are muffled in kisses, tumbled out nearly on top of Adam's 'I love you'. "About asking you and about telling people 'cause-" He takes one of Adam's hands from his face and folds their fingers together. "I wanna kiss you and I wanna hold your hand and... I love you, too." Then his mouth is on Adam's, kissing him hard and open and a little desperate.

"God," Adam pants. It's terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. "We need to talk to our parents, so they know." And his stomach turns over. "Okay. I - let's get out of here, okay? I want to be alone with you and I want to kiss you all over and I want ... I just - " He shakes his head, looking like he's feeling all that he's feeling. "I want to be alone with you."

"Alright." Adam's shaking his head, but Tommy's nodding, and they both mean the same thing. It's definitely time to go, and now that Tommy's said what he wants to say about telling people, he holds Adam's hand when they say bye to Mia and the few other people they'd talked to at the party. In Adam's car, Tommy leans over to kiss his boyfriend's neck, distracting and hot.

"I don't want to wreck," Adam moans, his body heating. "Just ... give me a few minutes." But his hand is tight around Tommy's thigh, squeezing, wanting. He manages to get them to Tommy's and to that basement sofa and he's tugging at Tommy's clothes, pulling them away, frantic with desire to _prove_. To show. To _feel_ him, all the while chanting how much he loves Tommy.

It doesn't take much for Tommy to have his legs hooked around Adam's hips, pushing up against him to let out a hot, brittle sound. "Shit," he whispers, fingertips digging into Adam's shoulders. "I love you, fuck, Adam-" The funny thing is, this is just like most Saturday nights they have, but there's something _new_ in it, something awesome and terrifying, and he fists a hand in Adam's hair to pull their mouths together.

The way they move together is familiar, too; they know how to touch each other now, what to do, but Adam's breathing harder and he can't stop kissing Tommy, even with his legs around his ears. Nerves, sure, at what they have to do - out themselves, but that means something. It matters. More than anything else.

There are points where Tommy has to hide his face against Adam's neck to stifle himself when he feels like he's too loud. There's a rhythm that works for both of them, clapped skin and squeaking springs; the hot tide of breath and the way Tommy's sounds all manage to sound like the beginning of Adam's name. "Ah- ah- _ah-_"

"I know," Adam whispers as he kisses him again, cradling the back of Tommy's head with one hand, his other around Tommy's cock, jerking him off in long strokes. "Oh, shit," he gasps, his orgasm washing over him in fits and starts, panted kisses pressed to whatever he can reach.

"Fuck," Tommy wheezes in agreement, body seizing up around Adam. Adam's orgasm had triggered his own, just like that, and now Tommy tips his head back for Adam's mouth. "You feel fuckin' good, oh god." His hips jump in uncertain bucks, the jerk of Adam coming in him sending shocky, electric shivers through his body.

Hands moving in soothing sweeps, Adam kisses him back as they both settle slowly. "I love your body," he murmurs with a sated smile. "I love fucking your body," and he laughs, high and happy. In moments like these, he looks nothing like the boy that Tommy first had a crush on, but maybe in the glint of metal in his mouth.

"Good to know," Tommy says, and laughs too. The black hair is only the most startling change in Adam; everything else has been so gradual that Tommy's used to it. How pale Adam is, how freckled. With the weight that he's lost, the body that's coming out is tall and lean, long-legged and broad-shouldered, but Tommy only sees Adam's body as something that belongs to Adam, therefore it's hot. Tommy kisses that silvery smile and hugs his arms around Adam's middle. "You gonna be okay with this?"

"I think so," Adam tells him with a soft, nervous laugh. "I don't know for sure, but I guess we'll find out, huh? But I guess what it comes right down to is that I love you."

"I love you, too."

~*~

Tommy's dad doesn't take it well. But he doesn't take it _too_ badly, which is a plus in Tommy's eyes. "What do you mean, you're dating _Adam._ Guys don't date each other! You're not gay, you're just confused, right? Right, Julia?"

Tommy's mother looks from her husband's face to her son's, and frowns a little. "I think you should maybe listen to him, Mike. He and Adam _have_ been spending a lot of time together, and a lot of the time is at night when we don't see them. Maybe- Tommy, baby. Are you sure about this?"

Tommy watches as his hands war with each other on the table, fingers locking and unlocking with each other, knuckles popping here and there. "Yeah, I'm sure. I went after him. It wasn't like... like he did anything to me, Dad, okay? So..." He shrugs. There's the news right there, and neither of his parents have even said anything about how the conversation started, with Tommy saying he has a date for Grad.

"I'm going to call Adam's mother," Julia decides, then hugs her son's shoulders. "Go do your homework, huh?" Mike's sent off to watch a game of some sort, and Julia dials the Lambert's number. "Leila? It's Julia Ratliff, how are you?"

"Hi, Julia, I'm good. How are you? Though ... honestly, I think I know why you're calling. Are you and Mike all right?"

"We're fine, I just wanted to talk to you about Adam, a little. Tommy told us tonight that he's taking Adam to Grad as a date, not as a friend. He told us that they've been seeing each other. Did you know about this?" With the phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder, Julia puts on the kettle to make some coffee. Her next talk will be with her husband, and this is how she's preparing for it.

"I suspected, yes. But tonight, we had a talk. I learned about Graduation and I think that it's wonderful. And very courageous. They're going to need our support right now. They'll have plenty of judgment without us adding to it."

Julia sighs. "I don't know what to think about it yet. Mike's sort of in denial. But Tommy's going to be eighteen in October, so I... I don't know. I want to support him, just like you said. But I don't know how, without being overbearing. I want to treat him the same, like Adam's his date and that's that. I just hope I can do it. How's Adam doing? Tommy's scared, I think."

"I think you should try. That's the best thing for both of them. Your son's not any different than he was before he told you, Julia. He's the same boy. He loves my son and my son loves him. That is pretty special. Adam is fine. Quiet. I imagine when I get off the phone, he'll be calling Tommy."

Leila's cool goes a long way to reassure Julia, and she thanks Adam's mother and is off the phone five minutes later. With two cups of coffee, she goes into the family room where Mike's watching baseball, and sits with him to talk.

~*~

After the ceremony, Tommy's in his bedroom fixing his tie. His diploma's tossed on the dresser, exchanged for dress clothes that are going to suck just as much as being in a grad robe during the summer, and he tells Adam's reflection, "Dave wants us to sit at his table, okay?"

"Okay." So this is the big deal, the big moment. It's here. Adam's stomach is tight and nervous, but he tries to smile. "C'mere. Your tie is weird." He's found he likes dressing up. He straightens the knot of Tommy's tie and leans in, nose to nose. "You're a high school graduate now."

Next summer will be Adam's turn, with a year's worth of theater and school and Tommy's attempt at college between now and then. For his exams, Tommy did most of his studying while Adam was at rehearsal, whether it was sitting alone in his basement to do it, or sitting in the theatrer to watch Adam. Tommy nips the tip of Adam's nose and has his tie fixed, and says, "I'm still kinda surprised. I think you got me through history, anyway."

"I don't know about that," Adam laughs, ducking in for small kisses, taken between words. Then he takes Tommy's hand. "Come on. Let's go eat cake and drink punch and feel people staring at us, huh?" Despite his nerves, the smile he gives Tommy is warm and sincere.

"Yeah. Okay." Both Julia and Leila are in the kitchen, chatting to each other, and when Adam and Tommy come out, so do the cameras. "Mom!" Tommy groans, but before she can give him the hairy eyeball, he slips his arm around Adam's waist and smiles, close-mouthed and fake, until it really _is_ time for them to go. On the ride over, Tommy doesn't let go of Adam's hand, nor does he when they get out of the car. It's only when Tommy sees Dave outside of the banquet hall having a smoke that he lets go of Adam's fingers so he can do the same.

"Adam," Dave greets. "Hope this means you're still gonna sing with us when you can, huh? And if you guys break up, I'm still calling dibs on you for the band."

"Sure," Adam laughs with a shrug. "Why not." Though he can't imagine a reason to break up with Tommy and that probably shows in his eyes. "What happens if the band breaks up, though?"

"Tommy gets you. I don't think I can deal with Broadway musicals." Dave rolls his eyes and Tommy laughs. Now and then, while Tommy smokes, he touches the back of Adam's wrist, just because he can. Nobody out here seems to even notice, really, though Tommy's fairly certain that the rumour spread pretty quick, after Mia's party. Inside the hall is the entire graduating class of 1998 and their dates. Tommy takes a breath and smiles up at Adam. "You wanna go in and get something to drink? I could totally kill a Coke right now."

"Sure," Adam says and he realizes what he's saying a moment later. But they're here now, right? They're doing this. No sense in chickening out now. He takes Tommy's hand in his and knows that they look good together, like photonegatives, really. And that's actually what settles him. They might make someone uncomfortable, but no one can say that they don't look good.

On the way to the 'bar', Tommy hears comments that are directed toward the both of them, a few negative ones and, to Tommy's surprise, a few positive ones, too. At their table, Dave's the only one who makes gay jokes, making sure Tommy's the butt of all of them, pun intended. But after dinner's finished and the lights are dimmed, Tommy sits with his hands in his lap, looking at how good, indeed, Adam looks. God.

The music for the first half-hour is fast and Adam realizes that he's not quite ready to bust a move with his graduating seniors. But when the music slows down, well, he stands up. Tommy was the one who made their relationship happen, really, right? So this is Adam's turn; it seems fitting. He holds his hand out to Tommy with a smile meant just for him.

Tommy takes a deep breath and puts his hand in Adam's, standing so they can dance together. Once they're on the dancefloor, it doesn't take long for Tommy to rest his head on Adam's shoulder, thinking about nothing but the feel of Adam's body and the words of the song they're dancing to. "You wanna just come back to my place after?" he asks. "Or do you wanna go to yours? Dave's having a party, too."

"Um." Adam's got his chin to his chest to rest his cheek to Tommy's hair. "Let's just go back to your place, huh?" That way they can get undressed and touch each other. "I want to fuck a graduate," he teases, mouth next to Tommy's ear, smile pressed there.

"Man, why do you say stuff like that in public?" Tommy laughs, giving Adam a little shove. "Now I've got fuckin' wood and I'm dancing with you." Which means Adam can maybe feel it. They _should_ stay another hour or so, just to have fun and hang out, but there's that urge to be alone with Adam after being so exposed with him.

"Because it would give you wood while you're dancing with me," Adam laughs, squeezing Tommy tighter. There's even a glitterball spinning over their heads and it's kind of cheesy and awesome. "Plus you're hot, so what can I say?"

The night ends with Tommy straddled across Adam's lap on the couch in the basement, ties loosened and buttons unfastened, and Tommy whispering 'I love you', against Adam's neck as his hands work between them, rubbing Adam through his dress pants. Tommy's wood never really went away all night, and now he's getting to do something about it.

Adam's still smiling when they kiss, but that smile fades to something else when they're naked. His eyes, though, they stay on Tommy's face, on his turned-up nose and Cupid's bow mouth, on his neck when he throws his head back. They both have black-colored nails too that stand out against bare skin, especially against Tommy's thigh as he urges it up his hip.

Tommy kisses Adam's neck, feeling how it's smooth one way and just barely stubbled the other, biting the back point of Adam's jaw. His parents are upstairs and awake; there's something freeing about knowing that he can be down here with Adam and not worry about being _caught_. Tommy's nails dig into Adam's back, those black nails leaving eight little crescents in Adam's skin. No more school, not for two whole months, and Tommy intends to spend his summer, as much as he can, with Adam.

~*~

The Hotel Cafe isn't the Hollywood Bowl by any stretch of the imagination. But it isn't embarrassing either. A lot of big names played there. So Adam and Tommy can add their names to the list. Adam smooths his shirt down his body and he gives Tommy a smile. "Are you sad you're missing your ten-year reunion to do this instead?"

"Nope," Tommy answers, short and smiled, and tries to fix his hair with some hairspray and a lot of fiddling. "I still talk to Mia and Dave, and they're pretty much the only guys from school, other than you, that I'd wanna see. So, nope. This is going to be great." The last two years have been a whirlwind that strained their relationship, with American Idol and shoots and tours and fan entitlement, but they've found their niche here, too, playing onstage together and playing it up for the fans, then settling at night in the bus crammed in the same bunk, or sprawled out together in a hotel bed. He pulls his jacket on and straightens it, squaring his shoulders for Adam's opinion. "Well? Are you ready to go kick ass?"

"Is there another way of doing it?" Adam cracks, then laughs, brushing at Tommy's lapels. "Of course I am." But a lip-gloss kiss first. "You know what I realized the other day?" He asks in a whisper, arm familiar around Tommy's shoulders. "I realized I found my true love with my first love. How many people do that? It's kind of amazing."

"I had to convince you," Tommy reminds. "You don't look anything like how you did, you know? But you're still the same." There's the sound of them being called to the stage, and Tommy steals one more kiss. "See you at Fever, huh?" He rests his head on Adam's shoulder for a moment. "I love you. It's totally amazing."

All they've been through, even the pressure Adam was dealt to get rid of Tommy that he'd fought tooth and nail, all of it, has led to this. "See you then, glitterbaby. I love you. So much." Adam pets over his hair gently before stepping toward the stage. "Here we go." And it's time to take the stage and do what they do almost as well as loving each other.


End file.
